


Change in Behavior

by penumbria



Series: Changes [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria/pseuds/penumbria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McGee realizes Tony needs a friend while Gibbs is in Mexico, and steps up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rose_malmaison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/gifts).



> Request: Tim and Tony have an adult conversation about something meaningful.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta lanalucy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS and I make no money from this.

 

** **

 

**Chapter One**

In the wee hours of the morning, Special Agent Timothy McGee lay on the leather sofa in the living room of Special Agent Tony DiNozzo’s apartment and stared into the dark. Tony was asleep in his bed, thanks to heavy duty painkillers and sleeping pills.

The day before, Tony had been shot three times in the right arm when he had pushed Ziva and Tim out of the way of a shooter. They had been in the wrong place because Tim had listened to Ziva and fallen back into old habits, assuming they knew better than their team lead. But Tony had been correct and the perp had circled around and gotten the drop on them. If Tony hadn’t pushed them, the shots that hit him in the arm would likely have taken Tim in the throat and Ziva in the face.

Tim had known almost instantly he’d screwed up. He’d been doing better lately about not being an entitled asshole and not following Ziva’s lead in disrespecting Tony. A few weeks before, Tim had come across the older man asleep at his desk and when investigating why, had discovered he had been fixing paperwork Tim and Ziva hadn’t done properly. A bit of research had opened Tim’s eyes to the fact that the other man had been doing it for years.

It had opened Tim’s eyes to a lot. He had finally realized DiNozzo’s frat boy persona was a mask and he actually had more education than Tim himself had. And he had been covering for the junior agents before Gibbs’ retirement - all this time - so they wouldn’t get torn apart by Gibbs. Tim had resolved to be a better person and a better friend to Tony and had stepped up to the plate. He had looked into the corrections Tony made to his reports over the years and had worked on adjusting his new reports until finally, Tony had accepted them as written. He had begun doing the paperwork (things like expense reports and mileage reports on the vehicles, or requests for various supplies and training days), stuff he should have been doing once he was promoted to Senior Field Agent when Tony took Team Lead.

Things had been going better and then Tim had slipped, at the worst time and place. And it was only DiNozzo’s actions and the luck he carried with him that had prevented fatalities. While Tony had been getting stitched up, Tim had done some hard thinking about why he had followed Ziva’s lead when his superior had told them differently. Tim acknowledged the Mossad officer was deadly and he tended to buckle under to her because she frightened him. He’d always known it, but to face it head-on had hurt and embarrassed him deeply. Tony could have died because Tim was a chickenshit and wouldn’t stand up to his junior agent. He had to stop letting her bully her way around him, especially since he realized it was a bluff, mostly. Yes, she had the skills to kill him with simple office equipment, and often a temper that seemed to explode, but she wouldn’t do it. If she did something so hot-headed regularly, she never would have ascended so high in Mossad, regardless of her family connections. Mossad wasn’t a joke of an agency. It was Israel’s elite wing. Ziva just used her read on him to intimidate him and get what she wanted. And Tim had to make it stop, which meant standing up to her and letting her know he was her boss. And Tony was his boss, something he was finally coming to accept.

When he had finished his self-reflections, Tim had gotten a pizza and headed to Tony’s apartment, ready to take care of his boss and friend. Tim knew perfectly well Tony would have signed out AMA. He hated the hospital and Tim had a feeling getting the plague had not helped his feeling any.

Tim had been right and Tony was home when he arrived, but he was out of his head on the heavy duty painkillers he had likely only taken under duress. Tony’s reaction to medication was always worth a laugh, but after what Tony had revealed as they had eaten the pizza, Tim couldn’t see the joke. Tony’s lack of a filter under meds had led to near stream-of-consciousness babbling on the other man’s part. And the things Tim had learned were revealing and heartrending.

Tony was struggling not only with Tim’s idiocy and Ziva’s insubordination since Gibbs’ abrupt retirement, but also the loss of a longterm lover who had left without even recalling Tony as more than a work colleague. And there was something more Tony had mentioned in passing during his depressed babblings, something about the director being a pimp, and an arms dealer and his daughter, and Tony was her rentboy. It had come up a few times in a few different contexts and it had set off Tim’s radar.

Tim hoped in the morning, Tony would be able to face the day without the heavy duty medication so they could talk. But if he couldn’t, Tim would wait. Tony wasn’t allowed back to the office for a week and would be on light desk duty at that point. And by then, Tony would definitely be off of the good stuff. It wouldn’t surprise Tim if he had flushed the rest of the pills as soon as he got home last night (if he had been aware enough to think of it). And that was assuming he had even filled the prescription in the first place.

Tim knew he often didn’t. At first, when they had moved desks, he hadn’t realized the meaning behind the folder full of old prescriptions. He hadn’t thought about it until he had gotten his head out of his ass and Tony had been injured. At that point, Tim put it all together and understood he really didn’t know his co-worker as well as he thought.

Tony usually presented himself as being open and outgoing, but Tim was slowly realizing it was all a front, a mask he wore to protect himself. And Tim worried if he didn’t have someone to take the mask off for, he would suffocate behind it. It was like Tony was constantly undercover and even Tim knew long term undercover operatives had major problems when they were in character too long. And Tony had been in character ever since they’d met, and from what Kate had said, he had been that way since she had met him, too. Not that Kate had ever realized it was a mask. Tim had loved her like a big sister, but Kate had really been horrible at her supposed specialty of profiling.

As Tim closed his eyes to sleep, he vowed to encourage Tony to be himself around him, even if only in private. Tim hoped Tony had been able to lose the mask when he was with Gibbs. It was likely how he had managed this long. But with Gibbs gone, Tony would need another outlet, and Tim could be that for him. In a different way, certainly. Tim was straight. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be there for his friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo opened his eyes with a heartfelt groan. His arm was throbbing and his mouth tasted like old pizza sauce and dead fish. As he lay in bed, his mind catalogued the things his body was telling him and tried to make sense of them. He recalled getting shot the day before and taking the medicine Palmer had forced on him after bringing him home from the ER. The medicine had worn off as he slept so that explained the epic amount of pain radiating from his arm.

The pizza sauce and dead fish taste was less obvious, but Tony suspected he had ordered a pizza the night before while out of his mind on the pills. He had told Palmer he was going to go right to bed after he washed up. The Autopsy Gremlin, a man who was becoming a mainstay in his increasingly chaotic and unpleasant world, had reminded him not to take a shower. Not only did his brand new stitches need to stay dry, but he could slip and fall, or pass out in the shower stall due to the blood loss and medication. Tony had told him he was just going to take a sponge bath and then hit the sheets, so the coroner’s assistant had left. And Tony had honestly meant his promise. He had been exhausted and in pain, since the pills hadn’t really started working before Palmer had left, and the local from the ER was rapidly wearing off.

But Tony realized once the pills hit, he could have decided ordering a pizza was a great idea. Pain medication really did a number on him. Even the over the counter stuff gave him odd sensations and side effects. But when he had to have the good stuff, it was like he was flying higher than the space shuttle. It was a good thing Palmer didn’t know him well enough to know that or he never would have left. Gibbs had always made him come to the house when he was on medication, so he wasn’t alone. Tony winced at the memories the passing thought provoked, and pushed them away.

Tony couldn’t smell the blood that had covered him the night before so he supposed he had washed up like he’d said he would. The dead fish was the medication itself, he knew, interacting on his taste buds with the flavors from the cheese and pepperoni. It was an odd idea but it had happened in the past. The first time it had baffled him, cheese plus pepperoni plus pizza sauce and dough shouldn’t leave an aftertaste of dead fish. And it wasn’t an anchovy taste. It was like old sushi, salmon or possibly eel. Tony’s biological interactions with modern medications were just odd. He had come to terms with it years before but it didn’t make them any less annoying.

Having decided he understood his body’s hints, Tony carefully sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stayed still for a few minutes while his head stopped swimming, and then rose and headed toward the bathroom. He took care of the issue that had awoken him and began to head to the kitchen to make tea when he heard a soft snuffling noise coming from the living room.

Tony eased carefully back into his bedroom and retrieved his backup weapon from his bedroom gun safe. His work gun was in the living room safe, he hoped. But so was someone else. He slid the safety of the gun off and carefully made his way down the hallway to the living room. The sound grew louder as he approached the sofa and he aimed his gun at the perp lying there, fast asleep under a blanket, one of Tony’s own spare blankets!

He steadied himself and took a deep breath. “All right, Goldilocks, it isn’t my bed but you’re on the sofa of a federal agent, buddy.”

The snuffling noise stopped abruptly and the man on the leather sofa pushed the blanket away. He began to sit up, and stopped abruptly when he saw the gun. Tony’s eyes widened when he recognized the sleeper.

“McGee? What are you doing playing Sleeping Beauty on my sofa?” He lowered the gun and slid the safety back on, placing it on one of the end tables.

“Tony! I stopped by last night with pizza and I wasn’t about to leave you alone after I saw the state you were in. You needed someone to be here, so -”

Tony was incredulous. No one - other than Gibbs - had really cared about him like that. They just assumed he would be fine on his own and he usually was. “Okay. I don’t remember that.”

McGee looked down at his lap, his face flushing red. “Yeah, you were really out of it. I knew you had some odd reactions to medications but you were really, really off last night.”

Tony looked at him and tried to recall, but knew it was unlikely. His head was always scrambled after that level of medication. “Sorry.”

McGee sat up straight and looked at Tony directly. “No. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Sign of weakness, right.”

McGee shook his head. “No. Weakness isn’t always a bad thing, Tony. And apologies aren’t weakness, either. At least, not if they are sincere and not meant as an excuse. I never really understood that rule of Gibbs’. I know it was from a John Wayne movie but -”

“Gibbs didn’t pick it up from The Duke, he got it from Franks. It was Franks’ mantra because he never felt he was in the wrong, so apologizing would have been a sign he didn’t have the power to stand up to whoever was confronting him. Gibbs took the words and attitude to heart and made it one of his rules.”

“Oh.” McGee blushed again and looked away. “Um, how’s your arm? Do you want more pills? I can get you some water or -”

Tony waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need the good stuff. I’ll just take some Tylenol. It’ll be fine. I never take the good stuff if I don’t have to. I’ve got a high pain threshold, McMedicator.”

“Okay, well, you sit down and I’ll get that, and water to wash it down.”

“McGee, I’m not helpless, you know.”

“You’re injured. You got shot. Three times. Because I was an idiotic ass and Ziva was a bitch. You’re my Team Lead. You’re my Boss. You’re my friend. At least, I hope you are. I’d like to be a better friend to you. I think you need it and I think I need to be. You aren’t alone, Tony. I know you don’t remember what you said last night but I want to talk about it anyway. And, well, I think I can help. I need to help. I was an idiot and too scared of Ziva to do what I should have done, and you paid the price. I would have been killed if that bullet had hit me. Let me help you, Tony. Let me in. Let me fix this.”

Tony stared at the younger man, truly shocked. What the hell had he said while under the influence of the pain meds? McGee had been doing a lot better in the past few weeks, and Tony had hoped he was turning a corner but this was way beyond settling into his new job and responsibilities. But he seemed incredibly sincere. The computer whiz had a truly horrible poker face and Tony knew he meant it. He wasn’t sure where the idea or the change had come from, but Tony welcomed it. The past few months,since Gibbs had bailed on them, had truly been hellish.

Tony sat on the end of the sofa. “Okay, McGee. The glasses are over the sink and the Tylenol is in the drawer next to the refrigerator. Four pills should be fine.”

McGee nodded and trotted off to procure the items, leaving Tony to ponder the entire situation. He wracked his brain trying to recall anything from the night before but it was all a blank. He could recall locking the door after Jimmy had left and putting his gun away. He remembered heading for the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth and towel from the hall linen closet. He even had vague memories of closing the bathroom door and reaching for the sink handle to turn on the water. Beyond that wasn’t just vague, it was a complete blank.

He really wanted to know what he had said to not only make McGee feel he had to spend the night, but to treat him to that little self-introspective mini-rant earlier.

Something had obviously happened before that, though. McGee had never brought him pizza when he was injured in the past, like after he was shot by Ziva’s fucking ricochet in the shipping container, McGee had even rubbed in the fact that Ziva had made dinner for him and not Tony. Even Gibbs had gotten on that bandwagon. Although later, Jethro had realized Tony hadn’t known about what Gibbs had thought was a madam-director-mandated team bonding night. He had wanted to rub the hookey-playing (as he thought) agent’s nose in the treat he had missed (a delicious meal).

Whatever had triggered McGee’s recent change, Tony welcomed it. It was nice to be able to pass on more and more of the paperwork the senior field agent was responsible for to the younger man. And no longer needing to edit his reports to make them readable and acceptable was helping cut back on his time spent at the office. Of course, he still had to fix, and lately even actually mostly write, Ziva’s reports, but McGee’s turnaround at work was helping take a lot of the pressure off.

McGee returned to the living room and held out a glass of water and the pills. Tony looked at them to be sure McGee wasn’t trying to trick him into taking the heavy duty medication and then swallowed them, hoping they would dull the sharp ache in his arm quickly.

While Tony was taking his pills, McGee took a seat on the other end of the sofa and took a deep breath. He turned to look at the older man and winced. “I need to say something. I sort of mentioned it earlier and I know you know I’ve been doing better with my reports and we agreed I could gradually build up to handling the amount of paperwork the senior field agent is responsible for. And I know I should have been doing all of it since I was assigned to the position. And I need you to know I know I shouldn’t even have the position. I don’t have the requisite amount of time as a field agent. But I am going to do my best to be worthy of the appointment, and be the best SFA I can be. I know I gave you a hard time after Gibbs retired. I just - I’ve never been the greatest with people, Tony. You know that. You’ve helped me get better at reading people and interacting with them as an equal or someone in charge of their interrogation. I remember when I interrogated Jason Geckler. He reminded me so much of the bullies I’d had to deal with in high school, and you helped me to see I had the power. And I brushed that off too quickly. Like I do so much of what you’ve done for me. And you let me. I wish you would have pushed me on that, but I understand now you never would, not for yourself. For others, for the job, yes, but not for yourself. My point is, I never realized the overgrown frat boy was a mask. I couldn’t see it and I’m ashamed of that. And I’m sorry. I was wrong and I hope you can forgive me. I have a lot of habitual responses to you built up over the years because of my blindness and I’m going to try my hardest to push them away. And I’m asking you to help me by reining me in when I revert to the guy with his head up his ass. This is something I think I’ll need help with, and you’re the only one who can help me to grow as a person in this, Tony. I know you wouldn’t do it if it was just for your own comfort but it isn’t; it’s for me, too.”

Tony sat stunned, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He wondered if he was still high and this was all a great hallucination. McGee realized he treated Tony like a lower form of life and wanted to change? He wanted Tony to help him when he slipped up? He realized and appreciated all Tony did to train him and help him be a field agent?

“I - uh - you really - this is kinda coming out of left field for me, McGee. You’ve been doing great with the paperwork the last few weeks and it has helped a lot. But I never thought - you aren’t great with people, you’re right. You can’t read past the surface most of the time. And that’s okay. You’re learning to take things with a grain of salt even if you don’t have Gibbs’ gut or my experience. But I - the frat boy - I was in a frat, McGee. I still see my frat brothers. Often.”

McGee leaned forward. “But you’re not stuck in that self, Tony. You portray yourself that way, I don’t know why, though I’d like to if you’re willing to tell me, but you aren’t the skirt-chasing hard-drinking party boy. Not anymore. And I’m not sure you ever were, even in college. I won’t pry, but if you want to talk about it, I want to listen, to understand, to be a better friend to you than I have in the past.”

“You’re right that I don’t go out partying all the time, though I still cut loose sometimes. But I am a flirt, McGee. I chase women and -”

“Yeah. You _flirt_. You _chase_. But you don’t actually follow through. Flirting is like your way to disarm people. The mask makes people think you aren’t as smart as you are. I bought into it, for too damn long. You don’t go home with a different woman every weekend. Last night, I told you the medication hit you hard. You - well, you didn’t have much of a filter, or really any filter and, well, you talked about a lot of different stuff.”

“I opened my big mouth about Gibbs, didn’t I?” Tony sat back against the sofa arm with a huff and winced when it jarred his arm.

McGee grimaced. “Yes. You weren’t overly graphic, thank God, but you talked a few times about how you were seeing one another for four years.”

Tony smiled wryly. “Yeah. He was a real hypocrite. Rule twelve, my ass. We started knocking boots not long after I left Baltimore. I wasn’t in great shape, then. I - I know Kate made sure you knew about my work history. She always pushed about me not staying anywhere for more than two years, but I didn’t jump jobs because I was bored. I started out as a beat cop in Peoria, and I was doing great until I made a boneheaded move. I’ve always been bisexual, McGee. I’ve always known it. But I knew the police force didn’t exactly wave the rainbow flag, so I kept quiet about it. I should have just kept it to women. One of the other cops in Peoria saw me out with a guy and it was obvious from what he saw we weren’t just two buddies out for a beer. It got around pretty fast and I took a few beatings, supposedly random muggings, where the attackers left no evidence. But I knew who it was. I recognized them, even in masks and hoods. But I wasn’t going to cross that line. I just kept my head down and did my job. Then I was out on a call, a domestic dispute a neighbor had called in. It turned out to be a man who was high and beating on his girlfriend and threatening to shoot her. When I showed up, he shot at me through the door. I called for backup and it was relayed to the others in the area. ‘Officer under fire.’ I knew there was a unit less than two blocks away. I had seen them as I came in for the call. The guy fired through the open door several more times and he eventually used his girlfriend's body as a shield to lean out into the hall to try to see me to shoot better. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger and if his aim had been a bit better, I’d have been bleeding out in that hallway. I felt the breeze of that bullet as it blew past my head, McGee. I took aim and my own shot didn’t miss. He was mostly hidden behind her but she was dead weight, unconscious from the beating, and his head and neck were above her. I took the head shot. My backup arrived twenty minutes later. It took them twenty minutes to go two blocks. They claimed they weren’t that close, but I had seen them and they knew it. I went to the captain and he agreed it was best if I left. He had a friend in Philadelphia and could give me a good recommendation. And he wouldn’t mention my proclivities. I took the transfer, gladly.”

McGee sat shocked, his eyes blinking wildly. “You - God, Tony, they were going to let you die? How - they’re cops! How could everyone be so corrupt? Even the Captain?”

Tony smiled bitterly. “It isn’t safe to be out when you’re a cop, McGee. At least, not then, and really, regardless of how the brass talks the talk, even now, the cops don’t walk the walk. Just like in the Navy, McGee. You stay in the closet to stay safe. So that’s why I left Peoria.”

McGee shook his head, unable to accept Tony had had to deal with such prejudice. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony shook his head. “Not your fault, McGoo. But it is why I give you such a hard time about girls. I know you’re straight but you give off a gay vibe. You ping my gaydar quite heavily sometimes. And by teasing you, I’m just trying to either get you to stop or show others by your reaction to it, you aren’t gay, so they don’t get the wrong idea.”

McGee smiled sadly. “Thanks for that then, I guess. I - do I _really_ come off as gay? That much?”

Tony grinned. “You really do. I know it isn’t intentional but you _really, really_ do.”

“Oh. Well, okay, I’ll - uh - work on that I guess. Did the same thing happen in Philadelphia?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I was much more careful in Philly. I only openly dated women. If I felt the need to scratch an itch with a guy, I took a weekend off and headed up to New York to a club. I dated women and fucked guys, one night, no strings. And I didn’t do it often. Even in New York, I was wary someone I knew would see me. No, I left Philly for a very different reason. Philly was where I first went undercover and my first op was a doozy. I can’t talk a whole lot about it but I was undercover in the mob and was responsible for bringing down some heavy players. And it put a great big target on my head. But I had also saved the life of the godfather’s granddaughter when she fell into a river, so he made it clear to everyone that the hit was only valid in Philly and its immediate suburbs. So, I transferred to Baltimore with a promotion to detective and a shiny new gold shield.”

“Wow, Tony, holy shit, you - it’s like your life is a soap opera or something.”

“Yeah, with insane writers who can’t remember what they put me through last time so they do something else, worse than before.”

McGee laughed. “So, Baltimore. That’s where you met Gibbs, right?”

Tony smiled nostalgically. “Yeah. I was a detective and I chased him down an alley and tackled him because I thought he was a perp. He was undercover trying to catch a murderer. And I ended up helping him with his case and during the course of it, I found out my partner, my friend, Danny Price, was a dirty cop - on the take. I couldn’t stay after that. I resigned and Gibbs offered me a job here. I took it. The problem was I didn’t tell anyone about Danny. Gibbs knew because he was there when it all went down but I - Danny was my best friend, he was going to be my best man. I didn’t out him. My fiancee couldn’t understand why I quit the force and wanted to move to DC. Wendy was good friends with Danny; he’s the one who introduced us. Well, technically, he re-introduced us. Wendy had been my piano teacher in high school and we had dated then. So, I wouldn’t tell her Danny was dirty. And she hated Gibbs. She blamed him for the whole idea. Less than a week before the wedding, she mailed me my ring and a ‘Dear John’ letter.”

“Wow. Seriously, Tony, this is weirder than fiction. I couldn’t write this and be believed.”

“Don’t worry about it, McFiction. It was for the best. And so I went over to Gibbs’ house and he’d just gotten his final divorce papers, for the third time, the day before and I had been left essentially at the altar, so we got drunk off our asses. We were both in fair amounts of emotional pain, though of course he would never admit to such a thing. But we needed comfort and human contact and our inhibitions were lowered from the alcohol. We ended up in bed together. It was great, seriously; he’s an awesome lover.”

“Tony, I don’t need to hear the details.”

“Fine, I’ll spare your McVirgin ears. But we started knocking boots regularly from then on. At first it was just stress relief, friends with benefits, you know? But by the time Blackadder left, it was changing into more. He had finished a boat, The Stephanie, and showed me how he got it out of the basement. You _cannot_ tell Abby I know. It’s a private thing to Jet - to Gibbs. But we went out on her that weekend, just a sail around the area, about five hours, then he beached her and lit her on fire. And, just to be sappy and make you uncomfortable, McWriter, that night on the beach, while the boat burned in a bonfire next to us, we made love for the first time. At least, I considered it that. I realized I loved him and I thought he felt the same. He never verbalized it but his gestures, his little tells - I thought I understood them. Since he got his brain swiss cheesed and forgot all about me, I’m not so sure anymore that I was more than a convenient built-in stress reliever to him, just someone to scratch an itch with. He remembered sleeping with the director. He remembered whatever the fuck the deal is between him and Ziva. I’m pretty sure that had nothing to do with actual fucking but I’m not positive. But he remembered it. He remembered Franks. And the terrorist. But not me. Not as anything more than his SFA.”

McGee reached out and laid a hand on Tony’s arm. “You said that last night, though you were more explicit about it. I’m sorry.”

Tony shook his head once more. “Not your problem, McRomantic. I just, I know his brain was messed up, but so much came back to him by the time he left. Just not me. At all. He called me McGee before he left and meant it. He didn’t really recognize me. I just - whatever. I’m in pain and feeling maudlin and depressed. I’d rather just think about it tomorrow. And then say the same thing then. I just don’t want to think about it. I can’t afford to. I don’t have time to wallow in regrets and the past. I’m Team Lead. And I’m not Gibbs, as you all point out so regularly. I don’t have the reputation to carry me over slipups and mistakes. I have to actually do all of my job.”

“And you were doing part of mine and Ziva’s, too.”

Tony nodded and huffed a bitter laugh. “Still am. You aren’t doing all of the SFA paperwork yet, McGee. You’ll get there and it really helps that I don’t have to do the Team Lead paperwork, all of the SFA paperwork, _and_ correct yours and Ziva’s reports. I’m still correcting hers. Shit, correct is the wrong word. She’s more than slacking off, you know. With you, it was basically what I had been doing since a few months into your time on the team. Gibbs was getting pissy with me about having to return your reports to be corrected multiple times and you didn’t take my hints about how to fix them, so I just did it myself to get Gibbs off my back. It used to be the same way with Ziva’s reports. But after Gibbs left and it was clear he wasn't coming back, she stopped even trying.”

McGee looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I - uh - a few weeks ago I saw you sleeping at your desk and well, at first I was just being an ass and wanted to see why you were screwing up and had to stay so late but then I realized what was going on. I was pissed when I saw you had been correcting my reports but then I dug deeper and saw you did it to Ziva and Kate, too.”

“Yeah, Gibbs is a stickler about them. But, well, frankly his leadership style always undermined me with you and Kate and Ziva. I was the _Senior_ Field Agent, which technically, through chain of command, made me your superior, but Gibbs doesn’t like not being the only alpha in the pack. I love him but that doesn't make me blind to his faults, you know. I was a cop for a long time. And reading people is one of my prime skills. I let him get away with it because I didn’t really have another choice. Directors Morrow and Shepard weren’t about to rein him in. They amply demonstrated that over the years. So, when I tried to help you all, teach you how to do things to Gibbs’ standard, you mostly blew me off. In the field you listened better. Well, you did and Kate, sometimes, but Ziva rarely did. Even with me as Team Lead, Ziva doesn’t take my direction well. When she bothers to show up at all.”

McGee slid forward. “Why don’t you report her for insubordination, Tony? For that matter, why didn’t you report me? I guess I get the reasons for not reporting us for ignoring the chain of command when Gibbs was here. He would have smacked you so hard your head would still be shaking. But, he’s gone and I was being an ass and Ziva - God, Tony, once I started watching - she’s late almost every morning, and you can measure her lateness in hours rather than minutes, she takes lunch breaks that can qualify as half days, she leaves early, she doesn’t do what you tell her in the field, and I snooped and saw her recent case reports. They were written in fucking Hebrew! Who did you get to translate them so you could write them yourself? I mean, that is more than just being unsure and testing you as a new Lead.”

Tony frowned. “I _did_ report her when it first started, McGee. I talked to her about it first, and when she just got worse, I went to the Director. It didn’t turn out well. The Director has no interest in pulling Ziva back. And I went to her about you, too, so it isn’t just because of NCIS’ relationship with Mossad. Director Shepard won’t interfere in my personnel problems as Team Lead, just as she wouldn’t when Gibbs was Lead. She told me he passed the team on to me, he trained me, it is my responsibility to handle internal team issues.”

“But - what? If she won’t give you support, how can you discipline us?”

“Exactly, McGee. I can’t. It isn’t like I could censure or fire Ziva. I’m not sure even Gibbs could have done that. Madam Director put her on our team and only she can change it. Or someone over her head. Frankly, I’ve always found that appointment - odd. Mossad isn’t an investigative agency. They don’t do crimes. They are an elite spy organization for the Israeli government. What is the point of having a spy on the elite crime investigation team for a frankly dinky agency like NCIS? Why would Mossad even want her here? Okay, our cases sometimes end up dealing with terrorism, but not often. Frankly, it‘s rare, and most of it was due to Ari and Mossad in the first place.”

McGee tilted his head to the side. “You know, I never even thought of that. Not really. Ziva would be better suited in the JTTF or a larger agency like the FBI or CIA.”

“I would understand better if it had been Gibbs who’d brought her in. He isn’t the most - he tended to build his team around people he could trust, that he had some kind of a hold over. With me, he knew after my experiences with Danny, I would be loyal if he showed he deserved it. With Kate, she had resigned from the protection detail of the Secret Service due to sexual impropriety. She would have been fired if she hadn’t quit. Gibbs saved her career. But she didn't have any investigative experience. And you, you didn’t have the background or the temperament to be a field agent. To be frank, and not meaning to be hurtful, Gibbs brought you in because he could intimidate you and you would be grateful for the place on the premier team, a place you weren’t around long enough to deserve. You’ve come along well and are growing into a fine field agent, but you were so green when we first met I wanted to get a lawn mower.”

“Wow. I - uh - huh. I never noticed. I mean, I knew I was green but my degrees made up for it. Or - well, they should have?”

Tony shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. And your education could have put you in a good place on a cyber crimes team, but not the Major Case Response Team. If someone other than Gibbs had been in charge, you would have been brought in for occasional computer support, perhaps, but nothing more. Not until you had a lot more experience like you were getting at Norfolk. But Gibbs, he was always given more leeway by Morrow. Especially after his appointment of me did so well, and the appointments forced on him, like Blackadder, worked out so poorly.”

“Well, I’m glad he brought me in, for whatever reason.”

“I agree, McGee. Like I said, you’re doing much better, you’re learning, you’re becoming a good agent. But my point was that Gibbs accepted Ziva’s appointment due to whatever bond they formed, but he wasn’t the one who made the assignment. That was Madam Director. And I still can’t figure out Ziva’s or Mossad’s angle.”

McGee frowned. “It is hinky, when I think about it like that. How long have you been wondering about it? Since she started acting out?”

Tony shook his head. “Since she first showed up after Ari was dead. She almost immediately began trying to undermine the team and my place on it. She would needle me worse than Kate ever did, and more harshly. She flirted seriously with me when we were alone, trying to get me into bed, but threatened me for flirting back or ignoring her flirting when someone else was around. And then the whole dinner at her place you all were so happy to rub my nose in when she didn’t invite me. It was suspicious and beyond odd. And nothing has really changed.”

“Do you think - I don’t know, I’m not good a lot with motivations and the people stuff yet but - well, if I were writing it, maybe she’s - I don’t know - spying? I mean she _is_ a spy. She’s Mossad. By definition that makes her a spy. Is she spying now? You said her placement in a small agency like NCIS was odd. But since NCIS _is_ so small, could it make her ability to spy and pass information easier? I mean, the FBI is much harder to crack and the CIA would be almost impossible. But we aren’t.”

“Good thinking, McParanoid. But, no, it’s a good thought. It would be easier. And some of our branches have a lot more to do with terrorism and overseas global stuff than us. If Ziva was able to pass along information now she has access, yeah, that could be it.”

Tony looked the younger man dead in the eyes, a frown on his face, his brows lowered and the look in his eyes intensely focused. “McGee. I know Ziva intimidates you. She scares you. But this is serious. Lives could be on the line. If Ziva and Mossad are doing this, if our operations aren’t secure, we don’t know what Mossad could be doing with any info once they have it, who they might trade it to for favors or info on their end, and we need to find out. This is _treason_ , McGee. But we can’t let Ziva have even a whiff of our suspicion, if we are right.”

McGee looked back at his superior, utterly focused. “I can do it, Tony. She never tries to see what I’m working on. And she’s barely in the office anymore, anyway. But Ziva’s not a citizen. She’s a foreign operative. That's not treason.”

Tony sighed. “No, Ziva’s part would be espionage. But Director Shepard’s assignment of her and lack of oversight, whether unknowingly or deliberately, could be classed as treason if Ziva is passing on intel. And frankly, I’m not sure what the deal is with Madam Director. She’s been - odd - off, hinky, since Gibbs retired.”

McGee nodded. “Okay. I can see that. And you - uh - well, you said some things last night about the Director wanting to pimp you out?”

Tony huffed a sound between a sigh and a bitter laugh. “Wow, I really let loose, didn’t I? I really should not talk about this, McGee. It is beyond on the downlow. Which makes me feel even weirder about it, to be honest. There’s this bad guy and -”

“Sorry, Tony, but - you said arms dealer last night.”

“Great. Just marvelous. Okay, yeah, an arms dealer. So there’s an arms dealer and Jenny wants info on him, she wants to find a weakness. And he has a daughter. But the daughter isn’t in his organization. Not openly, and not even covertly, from what I can tell from my recon. She’s a - um - a civilian. She has a job that isn’t at all helpful for an arms dealer. And yet, Jenny wants me to go undercover and seduce her so I can get her to fall for me and get an introduction to her father. The only issue, well one of the major issues, is Jenny still wants me at NCIS full-time as Team Lead of MCRT. It’s wrong. On a job like this, even assuming the daughter was a legitimate target, which I don’t really see, the undercover operative wouldn’t work his normal job, too. It would be too easy to lead a tail back to NCIS, to blow the cover. The whole thing just doesn't make sense the way Jenny has it structured.”

“Hmm. You know, this whole time, it was Director Shepard or Madam Director when you talked about her? But now, when discussing this op, it’s Jenny?”

“Nice catch, McGee. Color me impressed. Yeah, lately she’s been insisting I call her Jenny when we’re in private. And I guess that carried over once I started focusing on recent conversations with her. I really don’t like the vibes I get from all of this. I feel like she’s hanging me out to dry.”

McGee bit his lip and opened his mouth, before closing it to gnaw at his lower lip once more.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Spit it out, McGee. Before you make your lip look like raw hamburger.”

McGee grunted. “Fine. I can do some digging. I’ll be digging on the Ziva thing while you’re on medical leave. She only tries to look over my shoulder when you're around anyway, and even that hasn’t happened much since Gibbs left. I can dig into the Director's files, see what I can find about this op. Who’s your backup? Maybe they have more information about it? Is it someone from NCIS or another agency?”

Tony smiled wryly. “Yeah, that's the thing. Jenny, the Director, _is_ my only backup. I don’t know that anyone else even knows about the op, at least about the undercover with the daughter part of it. I’ve done some recon and surveillance, run through MTAC, on the players we know are in his circle who come into town, though the man himself hasn’t shown up, yet. But I feel like the rest of it is below undercover. I’m not sure it’s a sanctioned op at all, but I can’t decline it. That has been made crystal clear to me. If I won’t do the op or push for more info than Jenny is willing to give, and I can’t control my team, then I’m no good to NCIS. She wants me to be sure I know what side my bread is buttered on. I need to know, McGee. I don’t trust this op or her but I need strong information if I’m going to act on it. Luckily, I can’t proceed on meeting the mark until my arm is mostly healed. She isn’t supposed to know I’m in law enforcement at all, so recovering from several bullet wounds would be a red flag and I’d never get in. So, if you’re going to do this, you have while I’m home, which would be this week, and then two weeks while I’m on light duty until the stitches come out, to do your digging.”

McGee nodded solemnly. “I won’t let you down, Tony. And I’ll be careful. I won’t tell anyone, not even Abby, what I’m doing. We’ll figure it all out. I’ll get you solid intel, whether it points to Ziva passing info or Director Shepard sending you out unauthorized.”

Tony reached his good arm out to the other man and grabbed him by the neck, pulling him close. “Thanks, McGee. If I have to go over Director Shepard’s head, that means SecNav. The info has to be rock solid on either or both matters to do that. It can’t be speculation, not if we want to keep our jobs. I wish Gibbs were here. He’d have never let the Director get me to do this.”

McGee hugged his friend gingerly. “But we’d still have the potential of Ziva being a spy. Or - well - being a spy against _us_.”

“One issue would be better than two. But, two heads are better than one. And I’m glad you came, Tim. I don’t know what would have gone down if you were still being an ass. I’ve been feeling so alone, more than usual.”

“You aren’t alone, Tony. My head’s out of my ass and I can see things clearly for the first time in months, no, in years. We can work together and find a way to get you through this mess. The two of us. Not just you. You can count on me. I’m going to be a better friend to you. I can’t be Gibbs. But just because we won't be having sex doesn’t mean I can’t be there for you like he was, whether it’s a sounding board like this morning or a hug. I’m secure enough in my sexual identity to give you that, Tony.”

Tony smiled against McGee’s shoulder. “Thanks, McOprah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do have plans for a third story in this series but please do not hassle me about when it will be posted. I have other things I am working on and it will get done when it gets done. Thanks for reading!


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